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   He tried. Thinking hard, Kegan squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them again, he didn't look any more enlightened. He shrugged. "Eve's been up to something. That much is clear. But we still don't know when and where."

   "Sure we do." When I said this, I turned back to Eve so I could watch her closely. "You were at Brad's house the day he died, weren't you? That's why you don't want to tell Tyler where you were. You know it makes you look even guiltier."

   She sank down on the stool I had gotten up from just a few minutes before. "You think so, huh?" She sniffled. "I mean, about the guiltier thing?"

   "I know so. Eve . . ." I closed in on her. Moving gave me a way to use up some of the energy that was building inside me and ready to burst. "What were you doing there? How—"

   A tear slipped down her cheek. "That's how he showed

he was interested in me. Back when we still worked together. Brad sent me flowers and a note, telling me to stop by for dinner. He enclosed the key to his house. I meant to throw it out, I just never got around to it. When I found the key again, I thought . . ."

   Eve's voice faded. Just as well, since I probably wouldn't have heard what she said because I gulped so loud. "Key? You have a key? You mean to tell me, you weren't just there, taking a look at the house or watching to see when Brad left and where he went? You were inside? His house?"

   "Well, I didn't know that was the day somebody was going to kill him!" Eve jumped up from the stool, which was a good thing. My knees were mushy, and I sat right down. "I was just looking for evidence, you know, trying to find something the WOW sisters could use to prove that Brad was a creep. That was Monday morning. Just about the time he was killed. Then when I found out he was dead . . ." Enough said. She shrugged.

   "That's why you didn't return my calls that day. You didn't want me to know where you'd been. And you can't tell Tyler . . ." I drew in a deep breath that did nothing to still the crazy beating of my heart. But I couldn't control my curiosity. "Did you find anything?"

   "Nothing useful."

   "Then we're in big trouble here—"

   "For nothing."

   "Or maybe not."

   At Kegan's comment, I looked up. I was just in time to see him grimace as if he knew he'd crossed the line. Maybe so, but like I said, I was more than willing to listen to suggestions, especially now that things were looking worse than ever. With a nod, I encouraged him to keep talking.

   "Well, it's like this. Or at least this is how it looks to me." Unsure of himself, Kegan clutched his hands together at his waist. "I mean, to me, this looks like the perfect opportunity for us to do a little sleuthing. Remember what we were talking about just a little while ago, Annie. We said it would be useful to take a look at Brad's things, at his life. Now, we've got a key to his house! It's a gift from the gods! We could go there and have a look around. We're not going to take anything, so it wouldn't be illegal. Not exactly, anyway," he added this last bit quickly, apparently reading the objection I was all set to make. "We don't even have to touch anything. We'll just look. You know, for something that will tell us more about who might have killed him. The cops couldn't be mad about that, could they?"

   "Only if they find us."

   My sarcasm was lost on both Brad and Eve, who had decided he was right and was all set to buy into his plan.

   She nodded so fast and so hard, she looked like one of those bobble-head dolls. "We could go at night so nobody sees us. And we could wear disguises."

   "Enough with the disguises!"

   Do I need to point out that I am the one who injected reason into this little slice of insanity? Kegan was far more easily intimidated than Eve would ever be, so after I stared him down, I turned back to her.

   "You're not going," I said, my words as firm as the look I gave her. "You've already taken a chance, and it's too dangerous for you to be there again. We don't need to make you look even more guilty than you already do."

   There are plenty of people who are fooled by Eve's good looks and Southern girl charm. They underestimate her. I knew better, of course, and knowing what I know about her, I could practically see the wheels turning in her head. When they rolled to a stop and the truth dawned, her eyes went wide. "I'm not going. But you didn't say you weren't. Annie, are you telling me you'll do it? You're going to Brad's to investigate?"

   Call me crazy. Call me desperate. Call my anything but dishonest, because dishonest is something I am definitely not. Even when I tried to talk myself out of the plan, I knew I couldn't. And I knew why, too. No matter which way I looked at the situation, I always saw the same thing: Eve in an orange prison jumpsuit. No way I was going to let that happen. Not if I could do anything about it.

   "I'm going," I said, and when I held my hand out, she knew what I wanted. She dug into her purse and handed me the key to Brad's house. The next thing I did was push an order pad to her and hand her a pen. When she was done writing down Brad's address, I folded the paper, put it in my pocket, and just so nobody got the wrong idea, I looked again from Kegan to Eve. "And I'm going alone."

   "But—"

   Before she could say another word, I cut Eve off with a look.

   "But—"

   If I wasn't going to cave in to Eve, I sure wasn't going to give in to the pleading look in Kegan's eyes, either.

   "It's too dangerous," I told them at the same time I tried not to listen to my own advice. "I'm going alone."

   Before I had the chance to say another word, Eve locked me in a bear hug. "Annie," she burbled. "You're the best friend anybody ever had!"

       had, but I wasn't stupid. No way I was going to tell Eve and Kegan more than I already had. Sure, they agreed to my plan. Sure, they saw the wisdom of me investigating at Brad's on my own. Or at least they said they did.

   But I knew Eve better than to think she'd give up without a fight. I didn't know Kegan hardly at all, but I saw the ain't-it-fun-to-investigate gleam that shone in his eyes every time we talked about Brad's murder. I wasn't going to take the chance of having to fend off both of them at the same time I worried that Brad's neighbors (or—heaven forbid—the cops) might find me at his town house.

   Before I could talk myself out of what I should have been smart enough not to talk myself into, I decided to get it over with. The next night, a Tuesday, I stopped at Bellywasher's after work and tried to act normal and look unconcerned like a person would if she wasn't planning on illegally entering the home of a recently murdered man in order to find something that might exonerate her best friend who was suspected of the crime.

   Yes, in retrospect, it sounds crazy, but what choice did I have? I had to help Eve. And yes (again), getting my act together and acting like I had nothing up my sleeve, no flashlight in my purse, and that no one would notice that I'd deliberately dressed all in black that day (the better to blend in with the night) was nearly impossible, but I managed. Even though my insides were thrumming like a hive of bees, and my brain was buzzing along with them, I did all the things I usually do when I stop at the restaurant in the evening. I organized my office. I went through the day's receipts. I prepared the bank deposit.

   Oh yeah, and I slipped out of the restaurant just as the eight o'clock rush arrived, too.

   No way Eve could follow me when she was busy seating all those customers.

   Who could blame me for feeling mighty satisfied with myself? I timed my exit perfectly, and when I stepped outside, the coast was clear.

   Or at least it should have been.

   "I knew it!"

   When Kegan stepped out of the shadows between Bellywasher's and the building next door and directly into my path, I screeched. He pointed an accusing finger in my direction. It might have been easier to be mad at him if he sounded annoyed rather than hurt. "I knew you were going to go to Brad's tonight. I just knew it."

   Since I was pretty sure he couldn't read my mind, I wasn't about to fall for his blatant attempt at getting me to come clean. "I'm on my way home," I told him.

   "Uh-huh. That's why you changed from your work shoes to your sneakers."

   I
had
changed into the sneakers I kept in my office for those days when my schedule was hectic and my feet couldn't take another step in pumps, no matter how sensible. I was surprised Kegan noticed such an insignificant detail. Maybe he was more of a detective than I gave him credit for.

I kept walking. "It was a long day," I said. "My feet hurt."

   "Yeah, and that explains why you grabbed that digital camera that Jim keeps in the kitchen, too."

   I had hoped no one noticed when I scooped up the camera during class the night before. I saw it peeking out of my purse and sighed. "You were supposed to be busy with your mozzarella sticks. Besides, I could be using the camera for anything. Pictures of Fi and the girls. Pictures of spring flowers. Pictures of—"

   "Whatever it is we're going to find at Brad's."

   Another sigh. It was getting to be a bad habit. I stopped and turned to Kegan. "I can't ask you to do this. It could be dangerous."

   "Only if we're not prepared."

   "I am prepared. Prepared to do this on my own."

   "But I could help."

   Who was I to break the kid's investigatin' heart? While I tried to find the words to let him down softly, Kegan spoke up.

   "I've got everything we need," he said, and he lifted the paper shopping bag he had with him. I saw that it came from International Spy Museum.

   I didn't want to think what might be inside. "Thanks, Kegan. Really. I appreciate you wanting to help, but—"

   "But you don't have a tape recorder, do you?" He patted the shopping bag. "I brought one, and it could come in handy. We could talk as we walk through the place, then listen to our recording later. You know, just so we don't forget anything."

   "We could, but—"

   "But if you start walking around Brad's property with a camera, you're likely to be noticed. Am I right?" Good thing Kegan didn't give me a chance to answer. I wasn't in the mood to admit he was right and I was wrong. Before I could, he dug into the shopping bag and brought out what looked to be a pair of ordinary glasses. He perched them on his nose. "Camera," he said, pointing to the glasses. "Nobody would ever guess."

   "No, they wouldn't. But—"

   "And a security camera." He brought this out, too, still in its box, and showed it to me. "We can leave this outside the door. You know, just in case anyone happens to show up. I don't know what we'd do if that happened." His laugh was nervous. "But at least we'd know they were coming."

   "We would, but—"

   "And this is the best!" Again he reached into the bag. He brought out a—

   "Remote control car?"

   "Not just a remote control car. A spy car. We let it take a look around the place before we even walk in."

   "But—"

   "But nothing. This is really cool. See." He pointed. "It's got a little built-in camera, and I'll hold on to the monitor. We can look around Brad's place without stepping a foot inside. If something doesn't look kosher, we won't take any chances."

   "But—"

   I paused, waiting for him to interrupt me yet again. When he didn't, I pulled in a breath and launched into my objections. "I don't want to get you in trouble," I said. "I don't want you to do anything that isn't ethical. I don't want to feel guilty if something happens and you end up with a record because of me. I don't want you to feel as if you have to do this."

   "But I do. Don't you get it?" Kegan looked at me carefully. "Eve is your friend, sure, but she's my friend, too," he said. "I've got to help her. And I've got to help you, too, Annie. You guys at Bellywasher's . . . well, you're all special to me. I know it sounds corny and old-fashioned, but heck, ever since Grandpa Holtz died, I've been pretty much on my own. Then I started coming to class here . . . well, you're all like family. I can't let one of the family down. Not if there's any way I can help."

   Like I was supposed to find a way to argue with that? Or the puppy dog look that went along with Kegan's statement?

   I told him to stow his spy toys and bring them along.

       
used to live
) in a well-groomed town house in a well-groomed part of town. His home was redbrick and Georgian in style, with neat flower beds on either side of the short front walk, a tiny but perfectly manicured lawn, and outside the first-floor windows, planting boxes filled with yellow and purple pansies.

   Call me cynical, but I decided right then and there that there must have been a homeowners' association for this row of town houses and the identical ones that faced it from across a visitors' parking lot. And that the association must have taken care of the outside of the buildings. No way could I picture Brad in the garden on his hands and knees.

   Which was exactly where Kegan was. Kneeling on the tiny porch just to the left of the front door, he finished positioning the camera that came with his spy security system and rose. Since he was wearing his camera glasses and the heavy, dark frames made it hard for him to see, standing up wasn't as easy as it sounded. He put a hand on one of the window boxes to boost himself to his feet.

   It was the first I noticed that sometime since we'd gotten out of my car, he'd put on a pair of latex surgical gloves.

   "What?" When he saw me staring at his hands, Kegan raised his eyebrows, then looked down. "Oh, these. I almost forgot. I was watching an old episode of M
atlock
on cable last night. That's what made me think of the gloves. The bad guy used them when he burglarized a house." I guess this was supposed to make me feel better, because Kegan grinned. "No use taking any chances. I brought a pair for you, too." He dragged the gloves out of his pocket and handed them over.